Charles Baudelaire

Marec 25, 2005

"Get Drunk!"

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters;

that's our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time's

horrible burden one which breaks your shoulders and bows

you down, you must get drunk without cease.

But with what?

With wine, poetry, or virtue

as you choose.

But get drunk.

And if, at some time, on steps of a palace,

in the green grass of a ditch,

in the bleak solitude of your room,

you are waking and the drunkenness has already abated,

ask the wind, the wave, the stars, the clock,

all that which flees,

all that which groans,

all that which rolls,

all that which sings,

all that which speaks,

ask them, what time it is;

and the wind, the wave, the stars, the birds, and the clock,

they will all reply:

"It is time to get drunk!

So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time,

get drunk, get drunk,

and never pause for rest!

With wine, poetry, or virtue,

as you choose!"

Marec 25, 2005

mater se ga je blo v srednji šoli ob baudelairu dobr zakadit... dej me spominjat na to, bom še depresivn ratu... :cry:

Marec 25, 2005

"Afternoon Song"

Though your wicked eyebrows call

Your nature into question

(Unangelic's their suggestion,

Witch whose eyes enthrall)>

I adore you still -

O foolish terrible emotion -

Kneeling in devotion

As a priest to his idol will.

Your undone braids conceal

Desert, forest scents:

In your exotic countenance

Lie secrets unrevealed.

Over your flesh perfume drifts

Like incense 'round a censor:

Tantalizing dispenser

Of evening's ardent gifts.

No Philtres could compete

With your potent idleness:

You've mastered the caress

That raises dead me to their feet.

Your hips themselves are romanced

By your back and by your breasts:

By your languid dalliance.

Now and then, your appetite's

Uncontrolled, unassuaged:

Mysteriously enraged,

You kiss me and you bite.

Dark one, I am torn

By your savage ways,

Then, soft as the moon, your gaze

Sees my tortured heart reborn.

Beneath your satin shoe,

Beneath your charming silken foot.

My greatest joy I put

My genius and destiny, too.

You bring my spirit back,

Bringer of the light.

Exploding color in the night

Of my Siberia so black.

Marec 25, 2005

"To The Reader"

Stupidity, delusion, selfishness and lust

torment our bodies and possess our minds,

and we sustain our affable remorse

the way a beggar nourishes his lice

Our sins are stubborn, our contrition lame;

we want our scruples to be worth our while-

how cheerfully we crawl back to the mire:

with few cheap tears washing our stains away!

Satan Trismegistus subtly rocks

our ravished spirits on his wicked bed

until the precious metal of our will

is leached out by this cunning alchemist:

the Devil's hand directs our every move-

the things we loathed become the things we love:

day by day we drop though stinking shades

quite undeterred on our descent to Hell!

Like a poor profligate who sucks and bites

the withered breasts of some well-seasoned troll,

we snatch in passing at clandestine joys

and squeeze the oldest orange harder yet.

Wriggling in our brains like a million worms,

a demon demos holds its revels there,

and when we breathe, the Lethe in our lungs

trickles sighing on its secret course.

If rape and arson, poison and the knife

have not yet stitched their ludicrous designs

onto the banal buckram of our fates,

it is because our souls lack enterprise!

But here among the scorpions and the hounds,

the jackals, apes and vultures, snakes and wolves,

monsters that howl and growl and squeal and crawl,

in all the squalid zoo of vices,

one is even uglier and fouler than the rest,

although the least flamboyant of the lot;

this beast would gladly undermine the earth.

Marec 25, 2005

The Murderer's Wine

My wife is dead; I am free !

I can drink to my heart's content.

When I came home without a cent

Her crying was torture to me.

With air pure and a sky that is clear,

I'm as gay as a king could be . . .

This summer recalls the year

That we fell in love -- I and she !

The grave of that wife of mine

Would hardly hold enough wine

To quench the thirst that I've got;

-- and that is saying a lot.

I threw her corpse down a well

With the stones that rimmed it yonder.

She lies asleep where she fell.

-- Shall I ever forget her, I wonder ?

But our sweetest vows of yore

(And nothing annuls such an oath)

And to patch things up so that both

Could be drunk with love as before,

I begged for a rendezvous

At night, in a lonely lane,

She came, mad thing ! -- No ado !

-- We're all more or less insane !

She still was pretty, although

Worn out with working -- while I,

I loved her past bearing; and so

I said : "You've got to die !"

Who understands me ? Has one

'Mong those fellow sots of mine

Ever dreamt in his nights, as I've done,

Of weaving a shroud out of wine?

How could hopeless debauchees

As soulless as things of steel

Ever know the love I feel,

True love with its mysteries,

Its black enchantments and fears,

Its hellish procession if pains,

Its poison phials and tears,

Its rattle of bones and of chains !

At last I'm alone and free !

Tonight dead drunk I shall be;

Without fear or remorse, like a dog

On the ground I shall lie; like a dog

I shall sleep -- as dead men do.

And maybe some skidding truck

Or great cart piled with muck

And stones will cut me in two,

Or crush in my guilty head.

-- But why worry about the Hereafter ?

The thought of it moves me to laughter !

-- To hell with the Devil and God !

Popravljeno Marec 25, 2005. Popravil ixs

Marec 25, 2005

A ni car Baudelaire?!?!?...

Poezija darkerjev, satanistov.......ali zgolj iskanje drugačnosti, odštekanega!?!

Baudelaire, Edgar Poe, Srečko Kosovel,.....koga bi še postavil(a) ob bok??

Marec 25, 2005

The Vampire

Thou who abruptly as a knife

Didst come into my heart; thou who,

A demon horde into my life,

Didst enter, wildly dancing, through

The doorways of my sense unlatched

To make my spirit thy domain-

Harlot to whom I am attached

As convicts to the ball and chain,

As gamblers to the wheel's bright spell,

As drunkards to their raging thirst,

As corpses to their worms - accurst

Be thou! Oh, be thou damned to hell!

I have entreated the swift sword

To strike, that I at once be freed;

The poisoned phial I have implored

To plot with me a ruthless deed.

Alas! the phial and the blade

Do cry aloud and laugh at me:

"Thou art not worthy of our aid;

Thou art not worthy to be free.

Though one of us should be the tool

To save thee from thy wretched fate,

Thy kisses would resuscitate

The body of thy vampire, fool

Marec 25, 2005

za vse tiste, ki ga še vedno prebirate in za tiste, ki bi radi prebudili stare občutke in spomine......

http://www.geocities.com/Paris/Arc/5340/bflowers.htm

Se spomnite Rož zla?!

Današnji zamorjen petek je kot nalašč za Baudelaira......chat and coffie with........:)

Marec 25, 2005

Moja najljubsa:

The Litanies of Satan

O thou, of Angels loveliest, most wise,

O God betrayed by fate, deprived of praise,